Catherine broke the silence. “Have you noticed there are no fireflies anywhere else?” A glance around the area confirmed her observation. Despite the other small trees in the parking lot and shrubbery along the perimeter of the grounds only the elm tree was graced with the natural luminescence. They stood, mesmerized, watching the blanket of lights pulse and swell. It seemed to breathe. As the show slowly rose and infiltrated the lower branches Cath amended Alina’s original estimate. “I’d guess there’s upwards of two hundred.” Jodi broke her gaze from the tree to look at Alina and placed her hand gently upon her back.
Shifting to her left for a better view Catherine pulled the blinds aside and immediately gasped aloud. Her skin tingled as she tapped Alina on the shoulder. “Look,” she squeaked, pointing to the outside corner of the windowsill. Mother and daughter moved in unison to glimpse what Cath insistently pointed at.
The egg was cracked in half, and empty.
THE AIR FELT sharp around his arms and face, a soft beep emanated from behind his head. And he itched, in several places. And he ached in every way—and everywhere—imaginable.
And the voices he’d been hearing, all of them, recognizable. A few he could put faces to, but not without conscious effort, an effort that made the ache in his skull more pronounced. A few of the voices were new, disembodied and unrelatable; a couple were vivid and intimately familiar.
Though diffuse the light still seared his eyes as his eyelids gradually lifted. By squinting he could make out a tall woman standing in the doorway, her back turned to him. Her voice he recognized, and though just above a whisper she was being quite assertive to some other poor soul whom he couldn’t see—a terse, one-way discussion about a nurse who was or was not there.
Hagren winced. A nurse?
Physical systems long disconnected from external stimuli slowly began the process of binding and affixing themselves to internal networks, rediscovering pathways and sputtering then crackling with communication. A nurse? Hagren could suddenly feel his pulse race, could hear his heart pounding in his ears. Something began to twitch, then to shake. He closed his eyes again in an attempt to return to his former peace and calm. He could feel the shaking on either side of his body; from wrist to fingertips his hands shook like vibrating piano wires.
Two simple words had triggered a sensory overload—a nurse. He was in a hospital? But why? But he heard the other two voices. He knew beyond any trace of doubt they belonged to his wife and daughter. But in a hospital?
Once more he timidly opened his eyes. The tall woman was still in the doorway, He gently shifted his gaze to the opposite side of the room. Though partially fuzzy he could make out three forms with their backs turned to him. Instinct rushed to the fore, completely overpowering his diminished speech capabilities. Hagren parted his lips to speak, to call to the forms on the other side of the room. All he could muster was a shallow whimper he could barely hear himself.
His eyes began to water, and with the moisture came a bitter sting. His chest began to tremble.
“STAND RIGHT HERE,” she ordered with a terse whisper and a singular but persuasive index finger thrust at the very spot Apollo occupied. “Don’t go anywhere, and keep your fool mouth shut!” A wide eyed Apollo nodded. Linda pursed her lips and narrowed her eyelids then slowly turned to her right. She immediately recognized Jodi Roose standing at the window with two other women she hadn’t seen before. She took a deep breath and straightened her top.
“Mrs. Roose?” Jodi looked over her left shoulder, her hair brushing over her it as her head turned. “Hi Linda. How are you this evening?”
“Well, thanks.” Linda wrung her hands together. “There’s an issue I’m trying to get some clarification on and I’m hoping you can shed some light on it for me.”
“I can try.” Jodi tapped Alina on the shoulder who in turn tapped Catherine on her shoulder. Introductions were made and pleasantries exchanged. Linda spent the next few minutes in a half-hearted rehash of information about her husband’s condition, data which Jodi already knew from her discussions with other staff. Under different circumstances she would have halted the nurse halfway through, but the girls’ presence and the uncanny events of the evening gave her a sense of calm she didn’t want to spoil, so she let the nurse ramble.
Linda eventually circled around to the core of her uneasiness. She cleared her throat and related the first account of an alleged substitute nurse. She paused just long enough to throw a jagged glare over her shoulder then launched into the latest drama and the details of her march back to ICU with a clearly disfavored Apollo Clayton.
“So I wanted to check with you before I proceeded any further.” Another rifle glance backward. “You talked to Becky earlier, right?
“Of course,” Jodi replied. “She met the girls and we spoke for a few minutes.” Linda’s posture suddenly rebounded, slowly but perceptibly rising like a piece of memory foam. She clasped her hands together and smiled. “That’s exactly what I thought!” Jodi couldn’t see Apollo shaking his head behind Linda.
“Shortly after talking to Becky we went to the cafeteria for some dinner. On our way back we almost quite literally bumped into Mr. Clayton.” Linda’s focus was now razor sharp. She slipped her hands into big pockets on her smock and nodded gently as Jodi spoke. “I must tell you, once the initial panic wore off I found his concern and urgency to find you sorta sweet.” Linda smiled and behind her Apollo grinned.
“When we got here there was a nurse checking on my husband, yes. But it wasn’t Becky.” Linda’s face suddenly took on the sheen of a full moon. “Mrs. Roose, are—are you sure?” The nurse’s rigid confidence visibly eroded. All three women gave assured nods. She turned a third time to check on Apollo. He was leaning against the doorjamb and she could read his lips as he silently said “I told you!”
“She was very pleasant, wonderful bedside manner,” Jodi offered. Linda only managed a confused smile before suddenly waving her finger at the women. “Did you catch her name by any chance?” The question clearly caught the trio off guard. Jodi, Alina, and Catherine regarded one another. Ultimately each wore the same stunned expression. “Umm, you know, it never occurred to me to ask,” Jodi said. Alina and Catherine shook their heads in almost perfect unison. Jodi stared at her feet for a moment then promptly raised a finger. “She did say she was stepping in for another nurse who was out, though.” More nods of confirmation from Alina and Catherine.
Linda tossed her line in the water one last time. “No name at all, huh?” Their stares answered the question. Alina stood up on her toes, suddenly animated..
“I asked her if we knew each other, though. She looked really familiar to me.” From behind the nurse Apollo crowed “You too?!” Linda spun like a top and unloaded her frustrations upon him. Her wrath was blissfully short, but, like looking up into the eye of a hurricane there was no doubt the calm was deceptive; hurricane Linda spun again to face her guests, determined to find solid answers about the breach. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she continued.
“Sorry about that,” she said, thrusting a thumb in a backward motion. “It’s been a long night, and my shift is just starting.” All three women delivered their best awkward smiles. Linda looked down at her feet, her shoulders slumped slightly forward. She lost her cool about as often as a Saharan rain, but as things eased out of her control she’d allowed frustration to fester. She looked up at the visitors again and parted her lips to speak when Apollo’s voice interrupted.
“Linda.” Immediately she closed her eyes and tried to subdue the irritation that rose like a bullet. She could hear him shuffling behind her, gently rapping his thumb against the doorjamb. Her attempt to ignore him took a severe blow when he spoke again. “You might want to check on your patient,” he urged. It wasn’t a demand, more a cue than a jab. Again wheeling to her left, seething glare at the ready, she saw him pointing toward the bed. Alina Roose had practically knocked her mother over as she lunged to the bed side.
/> The nurse swiveled fully to face the patient. Her hands flew up and eyes drew wide. Apollo barely got out of the way as she barreled past him yelling “I gotta get the doctor on duty!” Jodi quickly settled in beside her daughter. Catherine knelt down to retrieve her crossword book without lifting her eyes from the scene in front of her.
Hagren Roose’s eyes drifted from the door and blur of nurse Shelley to the slightly freckled, porcelain face of his daughter. His hands still trembled lightly and bodily movement was unthinkable yet, hindered by head-to-toe pain and lack of voluntary motion for some time. But he could feel the gentle touch of Alina’s hand upon his own—and he could plainly hear her soft voice. “Daddy?” it said in a moist whisper.
“We’re here, daddy,” she continued, “mom’s here, too.” Hagren tried to squeeze her hand but his will was stronger than his flesh. Tiny spasms prevented proper muscle control. Beneath the iconic moustache his chin trembled ever so gently. He shifted his gaze with deliberate care toward his wife. Her dark hair hung over her shoulders and framed her face as she leaned in. Mother and daughter watched for several wordless moments as their father and husband looked back and forth, from one to the other. Jodi thought she saw his lips move.
“I think he’s trying to speak,” she whispered to Alina. She didn’t miss the small streak of moisture that caused her cheek to glisten. “Lean in and see if you can hear him,” she urged. “Go on.” Alina leaned over the bedside, careful not to bind or pinch any tubing as she did. With her right ear close to his lips she asked “What, daddy?” She felt her mother tenderly grasp her arm.
Apparitions floated before him as if they’d never left. Sharp details etched deep in his memory hung behind his eyes: an exuberant child flying spread eagle in the air, her laughter like a million honey-tipped darts; a small room filled with kindergartners; a child’s afternoon tea party carefully planned down to the name placards. He let the wispy sweetness of her voice settle upon his surging mind then glanced again at his wife. The spectacle of inner haunting replayed itself in vivid, somber tones, each memory now colored with a purposed beauty that complemented the pain. His body was fighting a thousand tiny wars of its own but his mind soared across chasms and crested battlements and swelled and billowed with a renewed fervor. He could feel his throat tightening and the ensuing rush of emotions. Tears spilled from the corners of his eyes as he closed them in an attempt to push his words audibly past his lips. A mild hum was followed by hoarse sibilance. The words escaped with the dryness of sun parched cotton.
Hagren felt his daughter’s head lay gently upon his chest, another physical awareness for his quivering body to deal with; then, the searing, life returning sensation of damp fabric—Alina’s tears began soaking through his hospital gown and watered his flesh. He heard his wife’s voice call to her. “Ally. Ally? What did he say?” A moment later the weight was gone from his chest.
It took a few awkward blinks to clear the watery veil from his eyes. Once free of the visual distortion he could see wife and daughter conjoined, their arms around one another, Alina’s head buried in her mothers shoulder. At length Jodi delicately lifted Alina’s head and looked her square in the eyes, wiping away stray tears with her thumbs. “Sweetie, what did he say?” Alina sniffed loudly.
“He said “I’m sorry”, mom.”
Like drifting snow that comes to rest on a tree a passionate relief settled upon both women. Hagren watched his family begin to heal. Behind them, beyond his sight, Catherine quietly wept for them.
* * *
ALL NURSE SHELLEY could see of Room G from her vantage point was three women crying. With the phone pressed against her ear, waiting for the doctor to respond, she could offer neither comfort nor assistance. She couldn’t tell if the patient had slipped back into coma, or anything else for that matter. Had he flatlined an alarm would have sounded at the desk, so she knew the worst had not happened. She bounced her knee and drummed fingers on the desktop as she waited while obsessively staring straight ahead.
Apollo sauntered by the desk seconds after she’d lifted the handset to call; she thought she sensed a slight air of smugness about him. She sighed. No matter, she’d have to make good and find some way to apologize without losing too much face. But that would come later. Much later. A barely audible click on the phone and her attentions shifted to briefing the doctor on what few details she had. Assured of his impending arrival Linda hung up and hurried back to the room.
Mother and daughter had stationed themselves on opposite sides of the bed each holding one of Hagren’s beefy, but trembling, hands. Linda strode in as calm as she possibly could. “Anything new?” Jodi immediately pointed to his hands. “He hasn’t stopped shaking. Is he having seizures?” The nurse performed some cursory visual and physical checks then shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said, “but the doctor should be here anytime and he’ll be able to tell you what’s going on.” Jodi and Alina looked up and locked stares for a moment.
Linda reached for a drawer in the night stand to retrieve a blanket. She stopped in mid-lean and furrowed her brow. “Have his lips been moving like this all the while?” she asked openly. Mother and daughter replied almost immediately. “No!”
Jodi grasped the initiative and leaned close, her right ear almost touching his lips. Despite four people holding their breath and the almost complete silence she could only make out a guttural moan, an air-like hiss, and a trailing click. She closed her eyes hoping to heighten her sense of hearing—still a moan, hiss, click. She could tell he was trying to say something, but the vitals monitor was an almost deafening distraction. “Can that thing be silenced?” she asked pointedly. Linda nodded and reached over to push two small buttons on its face, and then there was utter stillness.
“Try again, Hagren,” she said with a tender pat on his hand. She leaned in and again four women held their breath and froze in place. Jodi remained bent over the bed, listening intently, for a solid two minutes, and equally as motionless as the others. If only briefly, the room took on a wax museum diorama quality, life-like with an undertone of creepiness. She stood up again, tension seeming to pinch at every possible point on her face, and shook her head. “I can’t make it out. All I can hear is something like “mmm-iss-rrr-kuh-d”.”
Linda respectfully offered to try and Jodi quickly stepped aside so she could take her place. The cycle repeated itself again, with like results. The nurse stood up and grimaced. “I wonder . . .” Sliding her right hand along the bed frame she located a small rocker switch and pressed the side furthest from her. The bed slowly inclined. Again she leaned down, then pressed the button again, then listened. Mother and daughter fixated upon the nurse’s expression while she listened, waiting for the slightest nuance of movement, for any indication of speech recognition; an hour compressed into the tiny confines of three minutes. Linda finally stood upright again.
“I’m hearing the same thing you did, Mrs. Roose, but a little more distinctly after raising the bed. She paused as if mentally processing the sounds through a filter, making a Herculean effort to extrapolate some meaning—any meaning—from practically nothing. Jodi’s sudden voice was like a pebble tossed into a mill pond. “Well?”
Linda’s concentrated stare dissolved. “It sounds like ‘mizercor’ or ‘miserchord’, something like that. There’s something at the end, but his vocal chords don’t have enough wind to fully develop the sound—but I can tell something is there.” Once again the mother and daughter exchanged a familial gaze. This time it appeared to shake something loose for Alina.
“Cath, what was that word we were looking at before, you know, the puzzle thing.” Catherine sprang to her feet, the pages an ash grey blur as they were propelled right to left. She folded the book back upon itself when she located the page then raised it for Alina to read. “Mom? Do you think—?” Catherine moved the book for Jodi and Linda to see. The two women looked at each other, their eyes exploring the possibility.
Jodi shrugged. “The sounds
would seem to match up, but that could be me wanting them to more than anything else. What do you think, Linda?” The nurse stared at the word again then said it aloud. “Misericordia.” She considered the sound of it. “It’s possible, I guess. I can’t imagine what else it could be.” All four women stood quietly, each lost in their own thoughts. Jodi aired hers first.
“I’ve never used the word. I’ve never heard him use it. I don’t even know what it means.” She looked at the book again, then at her husband. All the bandages and tubes, the fluids, the time spent, as far as she knew, unconscious; she wondered. “Is it possible, I don’t know, that maybe there is some kind of damage?” Linda gave a reluctant nod. “Hard to say. I can tell you, though, that I’ve seen many patients come out of comas and many of them seem to babble a bit at first but it always seems to be temporary—for those who remain awake.” Immediately she stared at Jodi and Alina, afraid she’d said too much. Jodi looked at Alina as if to question what she heard earlier, and her daughter put the notion to bed. “No, mom. I know what I heard.”
While mother and daughter filled in the blanks for Linda, Catherine stared at the word again. Misericordia. Something nagged at her, like a tickle in the throat, a sneeze that wouldn’t come, that word on the tip of the tongue—frustrating bits of intuition that always spoke loud enough to announce their presence but refused to manifest into reality. So she did what she always did when something seemed lost; she worked her way backward.